


Wings of Fate

by PapuruKakugan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Explicit Language, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Translator!Levi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7942687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapuruKakugan/pseuds/PapuruKakugan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is born with a birthmark somewhere on their bodies, a random shape that slowly evolves to match another's as they grow older. Eventually the mark takes a definitive shape, but it's only when they meet their soulmate that it evolves, the details become sharper the more contact a person has with their soulmate.</p><p>When Eren was 15 he got his wing mark.</p><p>Since he was 16 he's been waiting for his mark to evolve, to start forming the sharper lines that mean his mark has recognised his fated. At 23 it does. When he moves in with Jean.</p><p>The only problem is, he can't stand the cynical ass. But what he doesn't know is that his scowling next door neighbour's mark has also begun to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

"Jesus shit, would you move your filthy crap before I kick your shitty ass down the stairs!"

Eren lifts his head from where it was buried in his pillow. He’s been awake for just over an hour but everything hurts. He spent the better part of yesterday lugging heavy furniture up two and a half flights of stairs. By himself. Because Jean thought he’d be kind enough to miss his 9.30am train from the arse-end of nowhere and lounge around waiting for the next one which would only get in at 2pm _today_.

Eren groans and smooshes his face back into his lovely, soft pillow. He doesn’t need to get up, Jean the Ass has a key and Eren deserves his rest. Just a few more hours, let his bruises stop feeling so fucking tender so he can live through his day feeling almost human instead of like a tenderised steak. Mmm steak. God, he hasn’t eaten for almost 20 hours. A fat, medium-rare steak with peppercorn sauce and thick chips and chocolate lava cake washed down with an ice cold glass of-

“Fucking move!”

That voice jerks him out of his reverie again, but this time it’s accompanied by a shriek of horror as something thuds down the concrete steps outside. Eren just about drags himself up over the headboard to squint out of his window overlooking the front door. There, on the top of the steps, is Jean. Blocking the way down from their semi-detached houses. Jean is just standing there watching a suitcase bounce down said steps, before turning angrily on the shorter man stood next to him. Their charming next door neighbour, Levi.

“What the fuck?! You kicked my suitcase! What the hell is wrong with you?” He all but screams at the evident suitcase kicker. Eren can see Jean’s shoulders tense and his fists bunch as his anger simmers. The shorter man just flicks his gaze up and Jean wilts under his glare.

His voice is like marble; cold, hard but beautiful to behold, “I’ve been stood here for decades, waiting for you to move your fucking shit and let me past. I’m late you insolent fucktard!” Evidently finished with their argument Levi barges past Jean and down the now clear staircase, looking like he wants to kick the fallen suitcase once more.

Jean looks ready to punch him but all he does is shout, “Late for what? Your period? Because you’ve got a serious case of PMS going there!” Jean doesn’t look ready to stop his insults any time soon, so Eren knocks on the window to get his attention before all hell breaks loose. God knows Jean has had enough conflicts with the human race to last him a lifetime, maybe two; he’s almost as bad as Eren.

Jean looks up at Eren’s window and deflates when he sees the unruly mop of hair poking over the window sill. He turns and stomps down the stairs to retrieve his fallen comrade, slain by his newest foe. Muttering under his breath he finally unlocks the front door and proceeds to make every noise possible dragging his 6 huge-ass cases into the hallway.

Now fully woken up from Jean and Levi’s lovely interaction, Eren hauls his bruised body out of bed and throws on his ‘nightie’ as Jean calls it. It’s really just a dark blue shirt that is 6 sizes too large and just about reaches the end of his boxer shorts. He makes his way to the bathroom, kicking an empty cardboard box as he goes. He relieves himself, brushes the pearly whites and runs wet fingers through the birds nest he used to call hair.

Still picking sleep out of his eyes he goes to greet Jean, who is still muttering and banging about in the living room. Eren leans against the door frame just in time to see him throw open a hard shell suitcase to reveal crockery, cutlery and glassware. The pots and pans are probably in another.

“Please don’t tell that’s the suitcase Levi kicked?” Eren asks with a groan. Jean huffs and grumbles a negative before looking up from where he’s knelt on the floor.

“Fucking dick is lucky I’m tired after the train. Where does he get off kicking a suitcase. _Kicking_ a suitcase. He’s mental." Jean throws his hands up in the air to showcase his evident exasperation. "How do you know his name anyway?” Jean finishes with a quirked eyebrow in Eren’s direction.

“Well, since you decided to miss your train-”

“I didn’t _decide_ to miss the damn train Jaeger," Jean interrupts with a glare. "I had six suitcases to lug along. Do you know how long it takes, shuffling six suitcases a few metres at a time down two flights of stairs and along an entire platform?”

“Anyway _Kirschstein_ ,” Eren continues, idly scratching at his arm. “I had to move all the furniture out of the removal van by midnight so I knocked next door to ask if he’d help. Barely got through an introduction and my question before he sneered at me and slammed the door in my face.”

Jean winces and has the decency to look sheepish as he replies, “Sorry man, wish you didn’t have to do that by yourself.”

Eren scoffs, “Yeah no shit, I finally got everything out at 11 but it took until 4am to get everything upstairs properly. I feel like a walking bruise.” Eren whines pitifully as he inspects the monster bruise that starts on his left shin, a lovely reminder of where he’d dropped an armchair on himself the night before. It was already a lovely shade of blue that travelled all the way up to his upper thigh. He pulls his over-large shirt higher to inspect the discolouration.

He tenderly prods the skin like a toddler but almost chokes on air when he notices another mark on his left hip. The mark he’s had since birth. His soul mark. His mate mark. The wing like mark that hasn’t changed in over eight years since it developed into it’s almost final form. The mark that now has faint lines detailing the individual feathers if you look close enough.

His skin feels clammy as he rubs a thumb over the blemish, he can hear his blood rushing in his ears, his eyes sting from staring too long. He forcefully pulls down his shirt to cover the accusing mark and scrunches his eyes closed.

His legs want to buckle as realisation dawns on him.

His soul mark is changing.

He’s met his soulmate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren wants to cry, Jean makes noise and coffee solves all problems.

_Oh God no._

_No, please no._

Eren wants to cry, or scream, or just dig a dirt hole and wallow in it for the next century.

His mark can’t change now, not when he’s just moved in with Jean. What does that even mean? Sure, they haven’t seen each other since they were 14, so his mark staying idle makes sense if Jean is in fact his soulmate. His mark now changing as soon as he and Jean meet in person for the first time in nine years. Jean can’t be his soulmate. He’s almost allergic to the Ass.

There’s a reason they only got on so well after Jean left their school; they’d bicker through every lesson and purposefully try and hit each other with a football or basketball during P.E. They each had scars from where they’d bite, kick and claw at the other for daring to breathe loudly. Their teachers finally had enough and called in their parents.

Eren’s parents weren’t rich enough to send him away to private school, so Jean was the only one who left. They hadn’t spoken for years afterwards, but a group email congratulating everyone on their respective high school graduations caused them to start talking again. Only by email at first, but soon it was texting and phone calls, then Skype video calls while they were doing their college coursework.

Slowly their relationship evolved into a tense camaraderie and (even though they won’t admit it) actual friendship. They had very few things in common, mainly their temper, but they also liked the same TV shows; the obscure foreign ones that they refused to watch with the dubbed audio.

They also had a shared interest in German language. True to his heritage Eren had taken A-Level German in college and flew through it with straight A’s; he was a natural since he’d basically grown up with the language. Jean had been forced into it during private school but was encouraged to take it at college level for his C.V., he loathed to admit he liked studying it but it was the only topic he asked Eren for help improving, especially when it came to swearing.

Now they’re living together; will be for the foreseeable future. Eren's mark had only manifested a year after Jean left, and he’s never asked about Jean’s mark; it’s not a polite thing to talk about.

He’s currently stood in the living room of their newly rented, two bedroom, semi-detached house watching Jean rifle through suitcases whilst hoping he’s wrong about this. About Jean. About _him_ and Jean.

Eren wants to crawl out of his skin; wants to shed it like a snake and escape this new revelation. Instead he forces words past his lips in the general direction of Jean, “Making coffee.”

His body on autopilot as he wanders into the kitchen. It’s so quiet in the house, but it’s also too loud. He wants to scream at Jean to shut up but he also wants to turn on every electrical appliance to make as much chaotic noise as possible. He just wants...

He’s stood slowly letting the cold tap trickle water into the kettle when he realises it might not be Jean; he has to grip onto the counter as he sags in relief. He’s met so many people in the past two days, granted only for a few minutes at the most but at least they’re not Jean the Ass. But none of those people were even remotely attractive to Eren. Sure there was nothing particularly wrong with most of them, but isn’t he supposed to find his soulmate attractive?

Unless it’s platonic. It’s not unheard of but isn’t that sad; poor Eren who’s been waiting anxiously, hoping for some degree of change to his mark for eight years only to find it’s platonic. He’s always been of the opinion he’s hard to love, sure he’s enthusiastic and quick to defend another, but he’s always been told to calm down. ‘You’re too much Eren’, ‘You need to think about others’, ‘Use words not your fists’; all those things just made him feel like there’s something wrong inside him. Is it really his fault he wants to protect the people he sees with fear on their faces? Is it wrong that he doesn’t want to share his things with strangers? Is it wrong that he can’t find it in himself to offer comfort to others when he can’t comfort himself?

His vision finally changes focus away from his black thoughts back to the task at hand to find the kettle nearly overflowing with cold water. He shuts off the tap and replaces the kettle to boil; getting mugs, the cafetière and ground coffee out of the sparsely filled cupboard as he waits. He measures three scoops of grounds into glass base of the cafetière, then gently adds the slightly cooled boiled water, stirring with the handle of a spoon as the grounds foam. He’s always loved the process of making coffee; real coffee, not the instant swill that most of the population seem to drink. The action of pouring, stirring, waiting, pressing and pouring into a mug lulls him into a calm.

That calm is broken by Jean appearing to rummage through the fridge in search of the milk. The door is gracelessly slammed shut making Eren flinch as he tries to pour brewed coffee into two mugs without spilling. He takes his own mug with just plain black coffee and leaves to sit outside in the garden.

It’s not a very big garden, barely 3 metres by 6 metres but it’s enough to have a patch of old grass and a long disused fountain sat ailing in the back corner. Eren sits on the flagstones underneath the kitchen window, able to hear Jean moving around inside; slamming the fridge door again, stomping upstairs to his newly claimed bedroom overlooking the feeble garden.

Eren slowly sips his coffee and tries to calm his raging thoughts; the fresh breeze helping him think clearer. There must be a mistake. _Maybe there’s someone I was near but didn’t notice._ But what hope could that give him? He was near his soulmate and didn’t notice them? True love right there.

When the coffee is all gone Eren has come to a conclusion. Well two really.

1) There’s nothing he can do about his mark and soulmate, if it happens, it happens.

2) He _really_ needs to revive this garden.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren wrenches open the door and steps out to see the woman half hanging out of Levi’s front door, his socked foot pushing on the woman’s chest whilst he tries to peel her clinging fingers off the doorframe. They both stop and turn to Eren, the woman’s eyes lighting up as they slowly trail up and down his body; Eren feels violated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not happy with this chapter. I've been really sick for the past few days and my brain's too mush to try and re-edit this. Hope you guys like it anyway. :)

There’s someone screaming next door. No, they’re _screeching_. A shrill noise that shouldn’t be coming from a human voice box. Eren can hear it coming from the other side, through the wall not three feet away. Levi’s side.

It’s Sunday and he needed a lie in after spending yesterday lugging chunks of rockery, roots and the run down fountain from the dying garden. Jean had refused to help when he returned from grocery shopping, claiming he couldn’t care less about a ‘measly patch of grass’ and left Eren to huff and sweat through his oldest t-shirt. Eren had refused to cook anything for dinner in retaliation, so Jean had reluctantly made chicken carbonara after whining in hunger for two hours.

Jean was actually a good cook (when he could be bothered), he always made fantastic meals completely from scratch no matter how little ingredients were in the cupboards. He was also good at creating a _mountain_ of dirty dishes and unnecessary mess. But he did, uncharacteristically, concede to clean up after himself after Eren fell asleep at the table.

There’s another voice joining in the noise from next door, thankfully _not_ screaming. Eren rolls over and smacks at his phone screen to look at the time. It’s a quiet, muffled voice, and would be barely noticeable if it wasn’t 8am on a Sunday. Eren groans and drags the thick duvet over his head, then flips it back over a few seconds later to escape the stifling heat.

Eren’s throat is dry, his head pounding, skin flushed from his too warm bedding. He’s contemplating moving to try and remedy these problems, instead he stares sleepily at the ceiling. There are thumb tacks stuck in the high ceiling from the previous tenants. They’re arranged sporadically and in confusing patterns. Eren thinks they look like constellations.

He’s just found Libra when the voices from next door cut off. There’s a loud thump followed shortly by the front door slamming shut. Eren can’t be bothered to move but he knows what he’d see if he looked out of his window; a short, angry asshole stomping down the steps with the usual black cargo jacket flapping in the wind. Eren knows this for certain, he’s watched it happen too many times in the past two weeks. Jean’s already told him to stop spying on their neighbour.

He’s not _spying_. He can’t help it if he notices when Levi leaves. Or returns. When he changes his mind after walking down the steps; returning minutes later with a different coat or umbrella to negate the weather. He’s noticed the store name emblazoned on the shopping bags carried by the shorter man; concluding that he’s a connoisseur of fine tea and organic produce. He also can’t help the way he notices Levi’s hair is immaculate even late in the day; deep black hair in a long undercut, loose ends tied in a delicate bun, bangs parted over his right eye. He can’t help watching his graceful walk; muscular legs parading the pavement with poise and purpose in dark jeans that are snug in _all_ the right places. The way his fingers twitch in annoyance when the garbage collectors are late and Jean crams the last trash bag in the full bin anyway. Eren’s found himself helpfully cleaning Jean’s room almost everyday where he just _happens_ to glimpse Levi doing yoga on the pristine grass in the midday sun; bare calves taught with understated strength, back arched like cat, face serene as he performs his poses. No, Eren’s definitely not spying.

Shit.

Eren scrubs his hands over his face as he thinks over every reason why he observes Levi so much. He’s tried to tell himself he’s just curious. That he wants to understand how someone can be that angry, be that infuriated by the presence of others. That he _doesn’t_ want to find out what colour Levi’s eyes really are; they look pale in certain lighting, but dark when Levi’s mood turns sour. He _doesn’t_ want to accidentally bump into Levi as they leave their houses at the same time, loitering on the top steps trying to make small talk about junk mail. He _doesn’t_ want to have dreams of running his lips over Levi’s jaw, smouldering eyes burning with a different kind of heat, dark hair haloed on white sheets as they move together.

He keeps telling himself he doesn’t want these things. He never actually believes it.

Eren finally pulls himself out of bed, spine cracking as he stretches, and pulls on his sleep shirt and lounge pants. He’s already downstairs when he realises that the house is quiet, which means Jean isn’t home. Thankful for the peace he goes in search of the milk for cereal, staring at the empty space in the fridge door for a few seconds before his still asleep brain registers it’s absence. His irritation flares as he notices the bottle, confirmed as empty when he picks it up, on the counter by the kettle. Eren adds a new bullet point to the ‘Reasons Why Jean’s An Ass’ list. He steals a few slices of Jean’s gluten free sunflower & chia seed speciality bread, it’s actually quite nice.

He sits outside munching on buttered toast and sipping coffee, lazily cataloguing his next tasks for the turned up garden. He’s only really going to get the grass healthy and plant a few bushes around the sides, but Eren’s always been the type of person who either has no plan whatsoever or has one so meticulous, long winded and thought out that it takes longer to plan than actually do.

Eren’s just thinking of a simple colour scheme for the flowers he’ll plant when a loud, obnoxious voice screams, “Levi!” He startles and drops his toast onto the flagstone. It lands with a sad thud. Buttered side down, _of course_. The person-cum-foghorn is now banging on Levi’s front door like it’s an African drum and repeating his name sans consonants. He’s certain the next town can hear the shrill female voice repeating ‘e-i!’, like some lunatics version of the Old MacDonald nursery rhyme.

The pounding and yelling peters off as Eren trudges back into the house, kicking the backdoor closed behind him and dumping his dishes into the kitchen sink. He rinses his hands and towel dries them as he makes his way to the frontdoor. He’s two feet away from opening it when he hears Levi’s voice berate his obviously unwelcome guest.

“Piss off you barbarian! I’ve had enough of your shit already.”

“Come on Levi! It’s one hour. Just meet him and let him buy you coffee-”

“I fucking hate shitty coffee. And you. Now leave!”

“Ow! Ow! Get-” Thud. “No, Levi-” Smack. “Let me just- No. Wait.” Slam.

Now quite worried for the woman’s safety Eren wrenches open the door and steps out to see the woman half hanging out of Levi’s front door, his socked foot pushing on the woman’s chest whilst he tries to peel her clinging fingers off the doorframe. They both stop and turn to Eren, the woman’s eyes lighting up as they slowly trail up and down his body; Eren feels violated.

Levi takes advantage of the woman’s distraction and restarts the struggle for expulsion from Casa del Levi. He gives a quick shove with his foot and manages to peel her digits from the groaning door frame successfully dislodging the intruding woman. She freefalls but Levi quickly grabs her wrists to prevent her skull from making friends with the concrete.

As soon as the woman has collected her balance she focuses her attention on Eren. _Oh dear God_. It’s like looking into the lion’s den. _After_ you’ve been caught stealing their dinner. Eren flicks his gaze over to his triumphant neighbour and sees the same horror reflected in Levi’s eyes. Eren flinches when the woman bounds forward a single step. He jumps back with one foot in his house and looks to Levi for salvation. He doesn’t find any. Instead he’s offered a piece of advice as the glaring man makes a hasty retreat.

“ _Run!_ ”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He goes pale when he sees the saccharine sweet smile on Levi’s face, his eyes cold and unhinged. “Are you insulting me Mr. Stockdale?” His voice is low and calm, posture straight and motionless as he stares into Mr. Stockdale’s eyes."
> 
> Part one of Levi's day up to the events of Chapter 1.

Levi had nearly laughed when the green eyed kid knocked on his door and asked him to help unload furniture from the moving truck. It was honestly the _perfect_ end to a _perfect_ day.

Firstly he’d woken up to no hot water, the gurgling boiler had stopped responding to Levi’s threats about a week ago. Then he discovered his usual morning Assam tea leaves had almost run out and he only had enough for half a cup. The bread was mouldy even though he’d only purchased it yesterday. He’d forgotten to set the drying cycle before bed to his clothes were still sodden. The mail pile on the doormat was riddled with red ‘final warning’ stamps. He had twenty emails from various assholes (clients) asking him when their translations would be finished. And to top it all off; it was _raining_.

Levi _hated_ rain. Wet, horrible cloud excrement that left you feeling filthy and tarnished after just 2 minutes. Levi steadfastly refused to go out in it. But today, he had to. He’d been warned by Erwin that missing another meeting with their hotshot client would result in him being ‘suspended’ from work; in other words, Levi had to actually interact with the human population over coffee or he was fired.

This particular client had disapproved of every translation they've sent their way for the past three weeks, always asking for different terminology; honestly, if they wanted a different phrasing they should have asked for a different sentence to translate. There are only so many ways to rephrase something whilst being true to the original quote. They were pushing Levi's breaking point.

So after a cold shower, half a cup of tea, no breakfast and his first headache of the day, Levi stepped out into the rain, cringing when the first drops hit his umbrella and started his thirty minute walk to the office. As he approached the drab, grey building he could make out a figure leaning against the wall under the awning. _Headache number two incoming._

“Levi!” The figure was practically bouncing as she noticed him through the rain. He dodged a puddle just as Hange lunged in for a hug, making her miss her mark and stumble past him; into the puddle. "Oops!” She stumbled around him and appeared on his other side, looping her arm through his and ducking under the umbrella.

“You’re late!” Hange singsongs in his ear. Levi cringes away from breath tickling his neck and sneers, “I wouldn’t be fucking late if I wasn’t fucking forced to attend this shitty charade. Does Erwin _have_ a spine?”

"Well, you always get the job done anyway." She replies in a voice far too peppy for Levi's liking.

Hange unwraps herself from Levi’s arm as they enter the building, Levi shaking off his umbrella and wiping the raindrops with a tissue he drops into the receptionist’s trashcan. The boy sat behind the desk barely looks up at having his space invaded, too used to having Levi make himself at home in areas he’s not technically allowed. He just sighs and continues editing appointments as Levi hangs up his jacket and umbrella, tidies the small desk of paperclips and index tabs and puts the coffee cup on a coaster before finally following Hange to the elevator bank to the low call of ‘bye Levi’ from the receptionist.

They take the tiny lift to the fourth floor, Levi hunching in on himself so as to not touch the filthy railing and darts out as soon as light cracks through the doors. He leads them down a short hallway and pushes the conference room door open loudly with his foot.

“Ah! Here they are.” Erwin’s voice carries over the large room. He’s sat at the head of a rectangular table, eight seats placed around it with only four currently occupied. Three suited men Levi already _hates_ are sat to Erwin’s left and are reading through documents; well, two of the three are anyway. The third has engaged Erwin in a conversation Levi’s entrance interrupted, which they now resume.

“I agree that there are many variations of the translation but I just think that having it translated this way would be more suitable to our needs.” The third suit is shoving a piece of A4 paper towards Erwin. Levi snatches the paper and tugs it towards himself as he takes the seat on Erwin’s right. He clenches his jaw when he reads the _horrific_  translation written hastily on the paper.

Levi looks up at the third suit, meeting his eyes and radiating hostility. “Let me get this straight,” He starts in a voice laced with acrimony, “You hired us to translate your company’s new slogan into something the modern day public can understand.” He pauses and waits until the suit nods in agreement. “Then you have the presumption to come in _here_ with your own piss poor translation of the phrase, telling _us_ that you want it translated this way, which is _so_ fucking wrong I can’t even begin to understand your idiocy. This,” He holds the paper in the air between his finger and thumb, “is an insult to this company, to the public, to the 3000 year old language as a whole.”

Levi gently places the paper back down on the table and slides it over to suit number three, “It is also an insult to _me_.” The suit’s eyes flick from the paper to Levi’s face, he goes pale when he sees the saccharine sweet, false smile on Levi’s face, his eyes cold and unhinged. “Are you _insulting_ me Mr. Stockdale?” His voice is low and calm, posture straight and motionless as he stares into Mr. Stockdale’s eyes.

The room is silent and still as all eyes watch the interaction between client and translator, the air getting increasingly thick with tension the longer the silence stretches. Mr. Stockdale flinches in his seat when Levi cracks a knuckle. “No!” He squeaks, face colouring red in embarassment as Levi gives him a cold smile. “We’ll take your translation.” He offers in a small voice, not daring to look Levi in the eye again.

“Good.” Levi curtly responds, signing his name on the contract suit number two quickly slides over the glossy table before standing. He nods to Erwin and passes Hange, who gives him a jubilant grin over her shoulder, on his way to the door where he uses a clean tissue to pull open the door. His job as Erwin's thug is done for today.

The receptionist is gone when he retrieves his coat and umbrella, desk still tidy much to Levi’s pleasure, and he braces himself to enter the fray once more. The boy from reception is stood outside under the awning smoking a menthol cigarette, the smell curling in Levi’s nose making him feel sickened.

“Sorry Levi.” The receptionist mutters with a shy smile as he stubs it out on the wet brick. He turns to go back inside and notices Levi’s murderous expression directed at the rain and laughs. “You know, you can’t threaten the weather Levi.”

Levi turns his glower on the boy as he pops open the umbrella, “I can fucking well try.”

* * *

Levi makes it home clutching his new box of tea to his chest, the rain is still pissing all over his day and Levi just wants to take a hot bath with hot tea and a good book. He’s shivering and wet when he finally locks the door behind him, running straight upstairs to start filling the tub with hot, bubble water. Shuddering, he makes his way downstairs again to flick on the kettle, unpack his glorious first flush Assam tea and measure it into his favourite cup. It’s a flowery thing, the palest blue with delicate pink flowers and deep green vines that swirl from the base and wrap around the handle. It comes with a matching saucer that he cradles as he sips the clear, amber liquid to soothe his nerves.

Levi carefully carries his brewed tea and current paperback to the bathroom where the tub is filled with hot water, _finally_ , bubbles floating and giving a spicy black pepper scent to the air. He sets down the saucer and book and strips off his damp clothes, piling them in the sink to be sorted later. His cold skin stings as he lowers himself into the blissful water, turning the tap off with his defrosting toes as he relaxes and lets the water lap at his neck. Levi leans forward and gently pulls the pins from his hair, letting the coiled bun come loose and the hair fall into the water around him. It’s the final push he needs to just let himself sag after a stressful morning.

He’s thankful though, that he did go to the meeting. Having his signature on the contract declaring the client is happy to accept his translation means he’ll finally get paid. God knows he needs it. He’s been living off his savings for nearly a month as every project he has is taking too long for him to receive a steady income. It’s only a small comfort to think that he will have a lot of money to put away into his savings once they’re completed; maybe he could take a vacation, somewhere warm and quiet.

His mind drifts as he lets the water lull him. He thinks of how he got to this point in his life; whether he made the right career choice; whether it was right to leave his fathers farm and break tradition; whether it's wrong for him to stay single when everyone wants him to find a partner.

As he thinks of his previous relationships something flutters in his groin, a desire he doesn’t sate often and is always mediocre when he does. That’s the problem he thinks; that every relationship he previously had was always just about sex. Every interaction was a precursor to finding a bed to screw in; because what’s the point if they’re not the one? His desire fades as the want to feel any pleasure passes like a leaf in the wind. He hasn't really wanted to feel  _anything_ for years.

Levi can feel his mark on the back of his neck, like it’s burning his skin as he becomes conscious of it’s existence. Not many people know where his mark is, and none other than himself and his parents have ever seen it. He keeps it covered with high necked clothing, and a ponytail in emergencies; he's not having strangers gawk at his skin just because the universe decided to place it where it's obvious.

The wing like mark had evolved like everyone else’s; a blob at birth, slowly changing shape until it becomes distinct during puberty and takes a final shape. The fine details only become apparent when one makes contact with their match. Their soulmate. Their fated. Their one true fucking love. It’s all bullshit to Levi anyway, he doesn’t care.

That’s what he tells himself for the thousandth time as he slowly sinks under the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for Levi's hairstyle comes from this art by [Mibu Lotus](http://mibu69.tumblr.com/post/101660585476)

**Author's Note:**

> Fancy a chat? Leave a comment or come find me on [Tumblr](http://papurukakugan.tumblr.com) x


End file.
